With a Kite I was set free

Everyone has bad days...I know most people have good days and they just kind of end but You always remember the really amazing days. I think it's because we reach a level of freedom that we yearn for everyday.

I like to look at my life as organized chaos. No one understands me and when they try they end up confused even more. I stopped trying to explain myself because even I dont know what I am going to do at any given time. (For example, I have started and stopped this blog 4 times now to pluck my eyebrow. Yes. One. The right.) I just do...Meaning if it's what feels right I do it. I tend to be the clown of my friends b/c well...I am often sadder than i appear but making others laugh just feels good. I am a giver...I am not very good at taking yet not so long ago, I had the best day of my adult life and the person responsible will probably never know how grateful I am because with a single day of kite flying...My life changed.

There are people that are introduced to your life and you never quite know their role. They are re-occuring actors in this thing called life but they never really play a main role. I have several of these people but there is one that...I just dont get. In another world we may have been soulmates and we just...yeah...anyways...Not too long ago I hung out w/this person. We went to the High on what I thought was just another Wednesday off of work. We stopped at the automobile exhibit first and I thought my day was made there. Being able to see the amazing cars from yester-year and watch the evolution of one of my obsessions/hobbies was enough to suffice my expectations of a good day, but being as though that was the first stop...the museum had a lot to live up to. We walked floor after floor, observing, and sharing facts, opinions, and jokes. I stared at statues that made me feel, if just for a moment, that I was staring at a human that just turned to stone similar to Lot in the Bible. Hours passed and he made a statement to inform me I was the first person that had walked the museum with him that wasnt ready to leave after an hour. Now dont get me wrong, my 5inch heeled BCBGs were definately reminding me that I did not have on walking shoes..yet it didnt matter. The art begged me to continue. And I did just that. Floor after floor, intricate corners, and sectioned off rooms...I wanted to see it all. I have never understood my obsession with art of any kind. It's as if I forget who I am and allow myself to get lost in pieces that may have no meaning, but for me in those minutes I look over, examine, study, and stare...it's my piece.

I've always expressed myself well verbally. Maybe not in a scholarly manner but definitely well enough where you feel where I am and what I am describing...That is my art. Words. Often times though, words dont always get said and my "art" goes unpublished, unaccounted for, and the very worst, forgotten by the would-be author for fear of what the response be. And so I look at art...and envy them (the artist) for letting what is in them out.

This day we walked and talked. Discussed many issues as we regularly do for hours. When we were done at the museum, he asked that I join him at Park Tavern for a late lunch. I obliged b/c I thoroughly enjoy his company that much.

When we arrived at the park he carried to awkward shaped containers and when i asked him what they were he smiled w/childlike eyes and told me they were kites. We were going to fly kites.

Now understand that I am a person you cant help but to notice, but when it comes to how others perceive me...Well I am normally considered reserved yet vocal or the wildchild w/boundaries. My entire life is full of opposites and yet amazingly...It makes sense to me.

I explained to him that I would watch him but I was not going to fly a kite. That is just not something that I, Joselyn, would do. I had my mind made up that it was childish and I would not participate. It didnt feel appropriate to have intellectual conversation with my adult friend and then moments later run around in a park flying parrot and dragon kites.

There was no telling him no. The kites were put together, my heels were parked in the grass, and all I felt now was the moist grass inbetween my toes. I stared the parrot eye to eye...then the wind blew and the parrots beak attacked my face and I was ready to quit. I felt like I looked like an idiot and felt like one for not knowing how to get the kite in the air...I mean the wind blew enough for the kite to attack me, yet not enough for it to take wind.

I slumped my shoulders and watched my friend fly his kite. It went higher and higher and as the kite went further and further up, his smile grew just as much.

I felt it again...The same feeling I felt at the museum. Not the appreciating of art, but the envy of the fact that my friend was doing something that brought him joy, and I was miserable.

I set my shoulders back and looked at my parrot...This bird was gonna fly. Wind or no wind.

The first few times my kite went up I felt this amazing air in my chest, granted you cant help but to notice my breast, it wasnt them that had my chest up higher. I was excited! I was proud! I suck at flying kites but I realized that the further up my kite went and the more control I gained...I felt free.

I didnt care what anyone thought around me. Everytime the parrot nose-dived into the grass I ran right after it and got it back in the air. Our kites almost got tangled a few times but just like us in real life they remained within safe distance.

We lost track of time, it didnt matter b/c we were having fun. We held no conversation during this time outside of the pestering each other about..well how bad I sucked.

The wind died down and we finally went to eat. We held more conversation and I'd be lying if I said I stopped thinking about the kites. Eventually we parted ways and my friends laughed at me when I told them that I wasnt going to speak to anyone until the next day b/c I didnt want to give anyone the opportunity to ruin my amazing day.

It is now 5 months later and as I type this on my phone I keep crying. Though you would think that it's because I am typing this on my phone and my thumbs are now numb...I cry because after this day I have allowed people to see me fuck up. I have allowed myself to make mistakes publically so that others can learn from them. I dont want to pretend anymore. Pretending went out of the door when I was hit in the face with a parrot kite.

I may not be completely free, and although I could keep typing...I am going to end it here. I just thank him so much...

With the flight of a kite, my life changed.

I Can't Trust What I Can't See

My dream last night was beyond weird but what was weirder was how sad it made me feel.

I dreamt that I was visiting my parents in Doraville and when I gt there my mother told me I was late for my wedding. MY WEDDING??? She threw me my dress and after putting it on and looking into a mirror it was the most hideous thing ever! It had chiffon butterfly wing sleeves, a pleated front, and chiffon bottom that stopped at my knees.

For some reason after getting dressed my mother took me to get my nails done for my wedding and while I was there they did Christmas designs on my toes and my hands alternated the colors green and red.

Some how I ended up in a car riding passenger to my wedding and when I got there I just walked in and walked to the alter. I didnt see my groom so when I turned to ask where he was I noticed that my witnesses were every single guy that I dated or had sex with and they were all dressed as grooms. Not one female. Not one friend.

When I turned back to look where my groom should have been...There he was, but where I should've seen a face I only saw blackness. Like an abyss. He extended his hand to me and I just couldnt take it. I refused to take his hand because I couldnt see his face.

I woke up crying and I still feel sad about it, but I dont know why.

And then I just didnt give a ....

They say that when you're hurt over and over again in life you no longer feel pain in your body because your nerve endings become immune to it. I think that is kind of how my heart is functioning as of late. I am starting to notice that I am secluding myself from people and the fuinny thing is, no one is noticing. I dont call, I dont text, I dont respond on social networks. I just dont give a fuck really and to be honest I am noticing that neither do they.

I have always heard that you cant force people to stay in your life but people seem to forget that they you dont have to force yourselves into theirs either. I am done forcing...Actually. I am jsut done. At this point... I really just dont give a fuck.

Who Is She For Real?

I watched Precious last night and the sad thing is throughout the whole movie I would blank out and have to knock myself into reality, reminding myself that Monique was not my mother and I was not the protaganist in this film. I know a lot of people are putting the movie down saying that it was depressing and it didnt end happily. I hate to say it but not all stories have happy endings. Not every female finds her knight in shining armor or every man finds his princess/queen. I know because I live in the real world.

Growing up in a home as the only female daughter to a mother and father that never really lived with their parents, that abused drugs, and were in and out of jail on a regular wasnt easy. In fact let me tell you what it was...some bullshit.

There were plenty nights that I remember growing up when my mother would come into my room after fighting with my father and tell me she was leaving us and going back to Puerto Rico. I remember how that tore me up on the inside. Here she was my mother, my queen, my goddess, my savior, and she was telling me that she couldnt press forward when things pushed back. I remember what followed too. Normally, after the conversation she would close herself in the bathroom with her drug of choice and pass out on the verge of overdose. I guess anything was better than the life she was living. To this day I dont understand her demons. I could never understand why this white powder made her so happy or why it caused her lips to turn oddly, and make her slur her words. I hated having to pick the lock to get to her and then having to run cold water on her face and neck to get her to wake up as my father watched, shook his head would walk away displeased. At the age of 4 and 5 one doesnt understand much but for some reason I understood all too well that my mother wanted a different life. What it should have been to her, I still dont know.

I remember learning what drugs were in school and asking my parents about the little jars they handed to others in return for money and what the contents were. The response was always the same, "this is medicine but dont tell anyone at your school because they'll take you away from us." Taking me away from the only people I knew put more fear in me than the kids that told me about this "boogie man" that stole and ate children. Those kids could have their boogie man I feared DFACS.

I had friends at the time and I would observe their families and they were nothing like mine. My mother would tell me it's because they were white. She said they didnt understand what we had to go through to survive. I loved the white families though. The way they did everything amazed me. They flew kites in the park, went to the circus, ate food I had never tasted before. My friend's invites over for dinner were my tickets to see what "normal" was. That ended at a certain age though. I remember when it happened because everything changed then. I was 10yrs old and I got my period.

I remember running to my mom and telling her through tears that I was bleeding but nothing hurts and her response was memorable, "Great you can have kids now. Now I really have to watch you around these boys." My childhood ended at 10. There were no more trips with the white families because my mother was convinced they'd touch me. My little brother was born the year before and someone had to take care of him after daycare. My parents werent the ones considering they spent most of their time running from their reality through drugs. The way I saw it. I was my little brother's mom. He was my baby without me giving birth. I missed flying kites.

At 11 my life went from bad to worse. I remember getting off the school bus to go home and walking up to my father handcuffed on the ground. I was always told that only bad guys go to jail, so I knew this must be a mistake. This man was just my father. My father was the person that saved me from my mother's wrath in the house and he made me laugh when she made me cry. Why was he on the ground and why couldn't I go into the house?? I heard my little brother cry and I ran towards him but a cop grabbed my arm and told me I had to wait. I got loose out of his grip and I ran towards my mother standing in the doorway. She had tears coming from her eyes when she looked at me. All I wanted to know was why were they treating my father like the bad guy. What did he do? I watched our house be torn apart. I watched guns, brown packages, white packages, and money be loaded into the back of an SUV. More importantly I saw my piggy bank be loaded with all the other stuff. That was my Toys R Us money that I saved from my allowance. There went my money for video games.

The years that followed were rough. I became a woman by force and necessity. While kids in junior high worried about being popular and finding themselves, I worried that they would find out I was the daughter of a big time trafficker of drugs. I threw myself into my studies, I just wanted to be as normal as possible so I excelled in school. My teachers asked to meet my parents and I always had an excuse. They were working, they were busy, out of town, or just couldnt make it.

My days were all the same. Go to school and play Ms. Popular. Smile a lot. Laugh a lot. Go home and cry a lot. I cooked, I cleaned, I watched my little brother. My mother worked to keep food in our mouths and a roof over our head. When she drank she yelled. My father wasnt there to hear it so it was my turn. I heard how worthless I was, how I'd never amount to anything because I was fat, I heard how I was stupid to believe that being a good student meant anything after school. I was told that failure was the only thing that I was guaranteed in life. The sad thing was, I believed it. What haope was there for a drug dealer's daughter?

I found out what sex was at 14. I found out what love was too. I stopped caring about the names my mother called me or how hard she hit me. I had someone that listened and cared about me. For every hit I received due to my mother's frustration with the world a little harder I became to those in my life. My mothers goal was to hurt me...She made me impenetrable. I stopped crying at 16. I like to think that I ran out of tears. The truth is, I just didnt care enough to let them leave my body. Every weekend we visited my dad. By this time he was a stranger to me. He was just the guy in a white and blue suit at Carrollton State Prison. He would tell me that everything he did, he did for me and my little brother. I ignored him while my little brother adored him. After every visit my mother would remind me of what my father had said but she would do it in her own way. "If you two were never born I could've moved back to Puerto Rico and divorced him by now. He is only in there because he wanted to provide for you Joselyn." I didnt care anymore.

In my heart I knew I was nothing like them. I was better. I found Jesus when I was 16. I went to church to escape my reality. I gave myself whole heartedly to the church. So much so that I was ordained a youth pastor at 18. I was engaged, in college, a youth pastor, and working for my fiance's mother at North Fulton Regional Hospital. Life couldnt be greater for me to the untrained eye. Unfortunately, not the case.
See the church structure of the Pentecostal church is much more strict than other churches. Which means that secrets are kept within the four walls of the church even if the whole congregation knows. I was still sustaining beatings at home from my mother but I think it was because my father was soon to be set free and she didnt remember how to be around him. I was also sustaining verbal and physical abuse from my fiance. During all the abuse, thoughts of suicide plagued my life and I was pushed closer and closer to death. The final straw that broke the camel's back was when I found out my fiance was cheating on me. I know it makes no sense to some of you and perfect sense to others, but the thought of my MAN parading around town with another female while I am the one he verbally abuses and beats at home... I was done. I left him and tried to leave this earth.

I attepted to commit suicide at 21yrs old. Nothing in my life made sense. My family was as dysfunctional as they get, I dropped out of college because I refused to feed the professor's what THEY wanted to hear, I had just broken off my engagement with the Pastor's son so I was frowned upon by the church, I had no friend's because I always made sure to keep people out so that they couldnt judge me or hurt me...I had myself and that is it and let's face it, I was the last person I wanted to be alone with. So one night... I gave in and gave up.

I obviously didnt succeed in my suicide attempt which only added more fuel to my fire in regards to being a failure. I couldnt even do away with myself the right way. The days I was in the hospital were the worst. I had no visitors until my last day. Thats when the two people I tormented the most in high school came to visit me. I didnt understand why. Why would these two people that I caused so much grief for come visit me??? I sat in silence as they told me that they were worried. I think I sat in silence because it made no sense to me. Why would anyone care for me? No one cares for me.

I turned to these two people after I got out of the hospital. I call them my angels. I have so much love for them, I cant even explain. I learned to channel my anger into cars. I learned anything and everything that I could about them to keep myself busy. I realized that cars will treat you as good as you treat them and at the end of the day, this is the type of relationship that I wanted. So I began to build cars and race them on the street. I ignored my mother and father fighting by learning what motor parts were interchangeable so that I could build the fastest car.

At 25 I sit here now writing this after being put out of my mother's house a week ago because she is still the same woman she was when I was 3. I on the other hand have always...always said I was better. I have grown, I have shifted from child, daughter, lover, and friend to become a person I now love. Let me tell you something. That is the BEST feeling in the world. To be able to wake up in the morning and look in the mirror and stand proudly knowing that people may attack you, your parents may forsake you, you may not be pleased with where you are in life, but damn you love yourself. There's no greater feeling.

So to those that wanted a happy ending for Precious...It doesnt always work out that way. Sometimes your life is meant to be a struggle but what is important is how high you hold your head while you go through it.

Now let me get off of here and practice holding my head high. ;o)

Sometimes you just gotta let it go..

It sucks when you invest time into people and they dont do the same for you. I used to let things dwindle with guys until I was so torn apart inside from trying to make something out of nothing and yet now...My time and my life is worth more than that. You cant force people to be in your life. People hate when I use the phrase, "people make time for the things they WANT to make time for." The fact of the matter is that it's true. Think back to your childhood, when you wanted something so bad you couldnt even sleep because all you could do was think about your goal or what you wanted. You lost sleep!! When was the last time you wanted something so bad you lost sleep??? I bet it took you a while to think of something.

Well see, that is my problem. I still act like that child that cant sleep. When I fall for someone I walk around like I been sucker punched and cant breath until they are by my side. I used to say I wasnt a romantic or that I didnt do mushy shit...well I do. But what is the point of feeling that way when it isnt reciprocated? The answer is simple. There isnt one.

With that being said I deleted his number today. It's probably for the best. I dont wanna give him the chanc to hurt me like the others. Before you tell me that I shouldnt cut things off before I find out... I been single for 6-7yrs. Trust me I know how things will end. In fact that is when I know it's time to let go. When the future is visible...it means it's close to the end.

Love...Love....Love. (Keyshia Cole voice)

I am sitting here at work listening to Keyshia Cole on my playlist and it's amazing how I can think of a guy for every single one of her songs. I cant front listening to her made me think of where I am now.

I am not sure if love is something that I even want anymore. I think admitting that just made me even more sad, but the fact of the matter is I am tired. I am tired of giving myself to people I THINK deserve me at the time just to find out later on down the line that they were no more deserving of my heart than I was of their assholish tendancies.

Not saying stand up guys dont exist, but they are so rare and in relationships w/females that dont deserve them it hurts me to watch. I dont understand how people that have the greatest love ever...just shit on it like it's nothing. I dunno maybe I should act like I am working.

Answer this for me though... Where do the broken go to get healed? I need to make an appointment.

A slight nudge did it...

I know that I tend to write and when I do it's a lot but I have a lot to say. I kept getting "nudges" about blogging again and I have decided that I will. Some will be long, others short, all revealing a little more about the person behind the screen. Now that I have my password and username. I suppose I can let you into the whirlwind of a life that I live. Enjoy :o)